Love, Locked and Loaded
by AlternateShadesofBlue
Summary: The night of drinks at Flux was supposed to be with herself and a mysterious new client. Harvey wasn't supposed to be there. If he hadn't been, maybe she would never have seen him again. Darvey with danger, heartbreak, and putting it all back together.


_**Disclaimer: The subject matter in this fic is darker than my usual. It came out of a challenge/request, that sort of took on a life of its own. If guns, violence, and forced consent are stressful/triggering for you, I strongly suggest skipping. ~B**_

* * *

 _The night of drinks at Flux was supposed to be with herself and a mysterious new client. Harvey wasn't supposed to be there. If he hadn't been, maybe she would never have seen him again._

Harvey insists on picking her up on the way.

Donna steps into Ray's car in her tailored black suit. "You know this is ridiculous."

"Why. You like Ray," Harvey says in mock confusion, climbing in on the other side.

"I _love_ Ray," Donna corrects, adjusting her seatbelt.

"I love you too, Donna," Ray throws over his shoulder, pleasure in the words as he drives them onto the road.

"What about me?" Harvey asks, sore jealousy in his tone.

"You're annoying," Donna deadpans.

Harvey rolls his eyes.

"It's just drinks with a client," she offers.

"Potential client. That asks for the only non-lawyer on our team. Why do you think he'd do that?"

"He didn't ask for a non-lawyer. She was busy and I was the next best thing."

"Were you?"

She scrunches her face at him, then sits straighter. "You're just mad they both prefer women."

"I'm not protesting because I'm sexist. I don't trust _why_ they both want women."

"You don't doubt Samantha can handle drinks."

"I don't care about her like I care about you."

Donna's heart flutters then immediately sinks, realizing how many times she's let words like that hold her high for too long. She ignores it instead, activating a new shield she'd decided on. _Again._

Indifference.

"You know we haven't talked about it," he says, his head swinging toward her after a long silence.

"I thought we did," she answers with certainty, keeping her eyes ahead.

"You don't think there's more to say?"

"Do you?" she challenges.

He doesn't answer. He's frowning, now also staring ahead. They both know this isn't the place to start the evening, since Thomas isn't a topic either are completely over yet and they're not ready to have it out. They'll shove it aside and let the evening finish like it never happened, slipping back into the monotony of days and the realization she can't get away from wasting them.

Even when she tried.

The car pulls up to Flux and Ray lets them out. Donna insists he go home, telling Harvey they're more than capable of taking a cab on a Friday night.

Flux is a trendy bar in Chelsea. Large, open and modern with pub touches. The usually lively spot is quiet for a Friday night.

Harvey drops her at a table deep inside, taking a seat closer to the door at the shorter half of the "L" bar. He has her in view and she rolls her eyes, even though his insistence to come made the tightness in her ribs loosen slightly. It's not often she's the one meeting a new client, and even less so that she's the one they request.

She adjusts her suit, smoothing out her pants. It's _not_ that she's downplaying her sexuality tonight for Harvey's benefit because first of all, she looks hot in the Italian stretch wool pants and custom fitted blazer. Harvey always taught her a suit makes the impression. _Plus, it's cold in February._

And maybe after her breakup with Thomas and the whys of it all, she isn't looking to encourage another client to jump to SZLWW based on them appreciating the way she looks in a dress and her ability to put them at ease.

She sips on her glass of Cabernet while Harvey tips his tumbler of double Macallan from the bar. He better pace himself because she's _not_ steadying his drunken ass out of here tonight.

The wait is longer than expected. She's on her second glass when a broad and tall man appears at the door. Looking flushed, he searches the restaurant until he sees her and then hurries her way. His suit is gray and unrecognizable, and nothing else about her read of him puts her at ease. There's a grouping of scars on his fingers—lines. She's puzzled by their cause, when he pulls her out of her thoughts with an order to a new waiter for more wine, while he orders cheap whiskey.

He discusses his import company briefly, and everything about him makes sense. The mystery, the likely unbranded suit, his wanting to meet her instead of a partner that would be more quick to be suspicious and not give him the attention.

She makes a joke about cloaks and daggers and imports going hand in hand, which he only gives a forced smile to, but doesn't comment further right about the moment her and Harvey meet eyes. He's not happy, and she wonders how much is reading her body language and how much is him still not liking her meeting male clients for evening drinks.

The talk moves smoothly even though she's not sold. Kevin Akins asks her questions about the firm and her history there. He asks about how she feels Samantha will represent his interests and the night feels like it's going okay. A slight headache grows, making her attention fade quicker than she had hoped.

She startles when the lights flicker. Her tablemate looks from her toward the back and suddenly a bigger flicker leads to complete darkness.

Nervous chatter grows around them. A few light up their phones but not much light is reaching them. She tries to feel for her handbag but can't find it.

There's clapping from a shadowed man by the bar, the one who'd been delivering her drinks starts ushering everyone to leave. Something about an electrical issue and they need to evacuate.

There's shuffling and noise moving toward the door. She can't spot Harvey. She's ready to move to her hands and knees, worried someone took her purse in the rush but a hand is on her arm and lifting her.

"We should head to the side exit. The front is a mess," Kevin says, motioning it with a tilt of his head in the extra dim room.

"I need to find my purse." She looks down again, but he lifts it in his opposite arm.

She scans the room for Harvey once more and worries when she still can't find him. Maybe Kevin is right. They'll hurry and exit then she can circle the building to "accidentally" run into him in front of Kevin and call it a night. With a headache growing and dizziness forming, she's ready to drink some herbal tea and get to bed.

It's quiet as they head toward the back and she wonders why they're the only ones who considered it. Second thoughts spin her belly, feeling unsure about why she's letting this man she hardly knows lead her toward a deserted place. She weighs whether it's a valid inner voice or overreaction from living so long in the city.

Before she can process they're out the door. The cool air burns her lungs, and she nearly stumbles into the darkness.

Faint figures are there and she sighs a breath of relief. They're not the only ones. The figures are moving toward her, and it's then she realizes they're not from the bar.

Their shoddy clothes alert her. Then she notices the large moving truck behind them, dread climbing with the acid hitting her throat.

Her feet feel unsteady; frozen. She should run.

She tries but suddenly arms wrap firmly around her, a hand covering her mouth. She struggles, trying to think back to the self defense classes she'd taken several years before after a near-miss mugging.

Her head is spinning. Their actions are moving faster than she can form thoughts. She's being lifted backward, legs kicking, losing her heels in the process. She's trying to bite, scream. Then she sees the gun. Pointed toward her. She stills, her vision burning.

 _Bang!_ Her heart nearly explodes. There's a slam behind them.

 _The door?_ The door. She hears curses and she knows the voice.

 _Harvey._ Her eyes fill.

She's spun around and she sees his wide eyes fill with an anger that chills her.

 _Don't be the hero. Don't be the hero. But please…_

Harvey charges toward the man holding her, throwing a punch. The arms around her tighten and she's thrown the ground, painfully landing on her knees and palms into the asphalt. Shadows of feet rest on the ground beside her.

She looks up through blurry vision. Cool fear rushes over every inch.

A gun is centered on his forehead.

All freezes. She calls out for him. Their eyes meet, and the fear she sees causes her to sob. She attempts to stand, feeling like she's filled with lead weights.

"Whatever you want, I'll give it to you." Harvey's arms are up, his tone steady. "Just let her go."

 _No. No. No._ She has to stop him. She manages to get to her feet, rushing for him when she's trapped in arms again, this time painfully.

"You hurt her, you'll pay," Harvey seethes, coldness in his threat.

Fear travels up her spine.

He's clocked in the back of the head, body stumbling and falling to the ground.

"Harvey!" she screams.

They're hitting him again and he's knocked out.

She tries to fight to get to him. _She's free._

Then pain seers in the back of her head and all she sees is black.

* * *

Waves of rattling come in and out of her consciousness. Like rumbling sheets of metal. Her head is pounding like a bass drum. She smells gasoline and her body and face are lying on cold steel.

It's dark. She's bound, legs together and wrists behind her back. Her limbs hurt. Shoulders aching and skin raw on her face and extremities. The surface beneath her is moving, rumbling over bumps. Her eyes begin to adjust to the low light. Her chest plummets when she sees the figure beside her.

 _Harvey._

He's bleeding above his forehead. Maybe other places she can't make out. They're in the back of an enclosed truck.

"Harvey," she whispers. He doesn't move and her breaths speed up, feeling panic grow. She says his name again.

His lids tighten and then shortly after they shoot open. "Don...na?"

"Harvey?"

"Are you alright?" he asks, his voice strained.

"Are you?"

"I've had better moments." He lets out a groan and a gasp as he adjusts to their predicament.

She wants to reach for him, and the reminder of helplessness makes the tears burn her eyes.

"You didn't answer," he says after some silence.

"That's because we're not alright. We're tied up. They have a gun. They're taking us to god knows where…" She stills as she sees him shifting closer. "Don't—"

He shushes her, continuing forward like a fish out of water until his body is inches from hers, stopping with pain contorted on his face.

She doesn't speak, the ache in her chest nearly crushing any of her cope.

He finally opens his eyes, so much behind them she wishes she could lose herself in the swirl of them.

"They didn't kill us," he says.

"How reassuring."

His head tilts, and the fact he can still be annoyed makes her release a breath.

"This was planned. Which means there's more to this."

She nods, not totally convinced.

"We're together."

The breath she pulls in physically hurts. Because the fact alone she's with him makes her tear up. All her hope and faith is wrapped up in having him beside her right now. But also makes her want to will him anywhere but here because nothing sounds worse than him being at risk.

"I'm not letting anything happen to you."

She closes her eyes, tears freely flowing and sobs escaping. The reassurance is empty. It makes pain suck into her chest and spread like all the fear gripped her insides at once. But she loves him for it. Because she needs him to want to fight for her as much as she'd fight for him.

She hears him shift again and she's afraid to look. Suddenly she feels his knees again her shins, and his cheek and nose pressing against her face.

He stills there, then brushes her tears with the side of his face. The gesture alone makes her even her breath. His lips rest against her temple.

"It's okay," he whispers and neither of them are convinced.

She knows from the shake in his tone he isn't but she relaxes anyway. If she takes comfort from nothing else, she has him, giving her freely what she'd always needed from him. For now it's enough to breathe.

* * *

The drive lasts what feels like hours. She's hungry, fading in and out, with a pounding headache.

When she's stopped crying and her breathing has evened, Harvey pulls back enough to look at her.

"We need to be doing what you and I do best. Details, instinct, intuition, not letting anything slip."

"To find an escape?" she asks.

"To get them put away when we escape."

She nods, not sure she has faith yet they will. But she's not telling him that. "What do you think this is, Harvey?"

He shakes his head, face hard. "I don't know. They wanted just you."

"What would I have?"

"Revenge against me? Ransom?"

"Could it be someone that hates us? Hardman?"

"No. He's a piece of shit but not diabolical."

"Stephen?" she asks, afraid of the answer.

"He's still in prison?"

She nods.

"Then I don't see how."

The vehicle comes to a stop, jolting them both. There's rattling at the metal door and then it rolls up, a bit more light peeking in. They both squint when beams from a pair of flashlights intrude.

"Aw, isn't this quaint," a deep voice says.

A cloth bag is pulled over her head, leaving her in almost darkness. She feels something press around her legs and then she can move them apart. The release makes her tense muscles ache worse.

She's instantly dragged from under her shoulders until her feet rapidly fall and her heart jumps, her bare heels hitting dirt. She hears Harvey's grunts as his likely do the same.

"Walk," one demands.

Her heart thunders as something presses into her back, and she tries to drown out the realization it's probably a gun. Instead she tries to focus on her senses like Harvey said. She swallows.

It's freezing, and she feels damp cool air. Pebbled dirt is beneath her feet, and she hears the rushing of water. Maybe a stream nearby? A fountain?

They didn't gag them, which means it's likely isolated enough that someone won't hear them. But they didn't want them to see, so there must be markers. It's still dark out, so they hadn't traveled all night.

They reach what feels to be cool and smooth like a concrete path, which puzzles her in the isolated place. A business? Maybe run down? The sidewalk is broken and unkept. She is forced to climb steps, onto a squeaking and worn landing. Wood. And then over a threshold and through a door.

It smells old, musty. The floor feels sleek and hard. It's silent. They walk about 30 or so steps and then down a ramp of some sort another 20 steps. She hears a squeak of metal being opened. Metal slips into the tape and her hands are released. Suddenly she's shoved further forward and metal slams.

"Home sweet, home," a voice says.

She's still not sure if she can remove the mask but begins, slowly.

"Go on, go on."

They're in a cell. A worn cell with a large room on the other side. The two men from earlier, one taller and lean, holding the gun, and the other shorter and burly are standing on the other side.

There's a run down old couch and an even older TV, along with a small a kitchenette. Her and Harvey are behind bars, a prison bed against the wall and a bathroom with only metal privacy screens shielding it. It's old and stinks like a damp basement. She grabs her middle.

Tall and Small, she names them, hoping the monikers help her long term.

"This was supposed to be for one, but since he messed that up, you'll have to share," Tall says.

Harvey steps forward. "Look, whatever you want—"

"For now I want you to shut up and undress," Tall says.

"What?" Donna asks.

Small steps forward. "Did he stutter?"

"No," Harvey says, resolve clear. "You want to keep us here? You want revenge or money? Fine. But I think you need us for some reason, and you're not making this harder than it has to be."

Her heart races. She's not sure provoking the guys with a gun is the best move here but she's not surprised Harvey's putting up a fight. It needs to work. She can't…

Tall steps closer. "Harvey? Isn't that what she called you? The big shot from the firm. I'll give you an ounce of slack, once, since I'm sure you're not used to taking orders."

His shoulders rise and fall a hair, and she knows he's holding back anger.

"Two things. One, you're expendable to me. Two, I can fucking take her by gunpoint and undress her myself anytime I want and do _whatever_ I want."

She sees Harvey's jaw tighten as fear burns through her like her sweat is gasoline.

Harvey wants to challenge him. She can see it in his body language but he doesn't bet when she's at risk and that's the only thing settling her terror right now.

"I'm attempting being a reasonable guy. You can keep your undergarments if you want but I'm gonna need those clothes because I don't want hiding places and it gives us the edge. So," Tall points the gun more squarely, his face turning menacing, "remove your fucking clothes and drop them through the bars."

Her shoulders slump and so do Harvey's. She anxiously removes her blazer, letting it fall to the bed. She works her buttons of her shirt with shaky hands.

Harvey turns his head to her, veins obviously coursing and she panics because she knows he's about to do something. He roughly and without delay begins unbuttoning his shirt.

"If I'm so expendable—" he yanks off his shirt "—why haven't you killed me yet?"

"Harvey!" Donna warns.

The men on the other side's expressions remain hard but silent.

Harvey tosses his shirt out the bars, leaving him in a tank. "I think I fucked up your plan—" Harvey unbuckles his belt and pants, swiftly shoving them down "—and for whatever reason, I'm more valuable to you alive." Harvey wrenches off his shoes and tugs off his pants and shoves them through the other side of the bars.

Donna hasn't even fully removed her shirt yet, still too livid that Harvey is baiting them.

Tall motions the gun at Harvey. "And what body part should I start with to show you're not?"

Donna rushes forward. "None. _None._ He's just panicking. All right? We're both locked up."

"Then shut him up." Tall turns to Harvey. "And get busy helping her undress. I'm not standing here forever."

His face is stone as he makes the tentative couple steps her way, face softening while his chest still rises in exaggerated breath.

He tries at grabbing her arm and she shoves him off, speeding up her undressing and ignoring her nerves. She shoves down her pants and he picks up her items and puts them out the other side of the bars. She's left freezing, only covered by the lace-trimmed cami and even lacier high-cut panties. In front of all these men.

And Harvey. Somehow the fact means less in the circumstances.

She stares down, his hairy bare legs and boxer briefs making her close her eyes.

"She's cold," Harvey says.

Her eyes shoot open, face burning as she realizes he's noticed her nipples tightened and she crosses her arms.

"Yes, she is," Tall says with a leer.

"I'll turn up the heat." Small walks to the thermostat and adjusts. "Get some sleep."

"He needs a first aid kit or something. And I could use something for a headache," she says.

"Do I look like fucking Rite Aid?" Tall asks.

"We've got one upstairs," Small offers.

"Fine." Tall waves him off. "But make sure there's nothing sharp in there before you give it to them."

Harvey and Donna are silent as they wait. She's too busy wanting to lay into him for being an idiot and she senses he's seething himself right now. Several minutes later Small returns and passes a bag through the gates, along with a bottle of water.

Harvey hands it over to her first and she takes few drinks and passes it back to him. She grabs the first aid kit from him and takes a seat on the bed.

Their abductors have taken a seat on the sofa and have turned on the television, drinking beers.

Harvey rubs his face and takes a seat near her on the twin mattress. She's laid out bandages and antiseptic, motioning him forward with her finger. She begins cleaning at the cut on his forehead, still angry, probably covering for the terror she feels but she's not telling him that.

He winces. "You're not as gentle as the last time you did this."

"You didn't seem terribly concerned about yourself a few minutes ago."

"Donna." He's staring at her, pleading for her to let him through the mask.

She doesn't want to cry with these assholes sitting so close, and anger seems a decent way to replace it.

"You know we have to stick together here."

"Then stick with me, Harvey. Promise me you won't try bullying as a tactic when these guys have the upper hand."

"I'll promise to be more careful. But I don't think they do. You don't keep around something you don't need."

"That's a grim alternative. Murder or leverage."

"Then we have something to help us sleep."

Which brings her to the small bed. And the bulge outline between his legs she can't avoid anymore. She internally groans at the thought. This isn't the time. And yet, there had never been another time to see it so clearly since…

She checks him over, deciding to focus on injuries. When she's done she finds pain relievers and they down them with the rest of the water.

He stands, leaning in, checking her head and scrapes. It puts the parts she was trying to get out of her mind in close view and she shoots her eyes north. Being affected by the outline of his dick is most fucking idiotic thought in the middle of their lives being threatened.

Her thoughts immediately shift when she finds the worry behind his eyes. Openly. Not buried in paperwork or the hardness she usually sees. It makes her swallow.

They need to ice their heads but the captors didn't seem like they'd be happy to be disturbed again. When they've cleaned off the bed he tells her to climb in. Spooning is the only real option that makes sense.

She hates being in a foreign space. Who knows how clean this is, and the TV though turned low creates enough noise and light she knows it isn't coming easy for her.

He climbs in besides her. Wrapping his arms under her neck and over her stomach.

"Is this okay?"

She feels her breathing even just a bit, closing her eyes into the safety of him. It might complicate everything later, but they aren't assured of later. She answers with a nod, settling against him.

Sleep doesn't come easy. But it comes easier with him.

* * *

The night is restless. The abductors leave them alone, and they use the opportunity to take stock of their situation. Solid bars, heavy brick walls, broken concrete floors.

There's evidence of another missing cell by the kitchen, which brings them to the conclusion this could be an abandoned jail. One with nearby water. It's a start but not enough to help them. There's a camera on the wall, and they decide to assume it's functional and in use just in case.

They go over the details again. Samantha's client, Holstead. How he'd come into Donna's office and personally asked her to meet with his associate Kevin Akins, claiming Samantha was busy. How she didn't check because the fact was true. She had been busy.

Were Holstead and Akins behind it? Or just paid off? Nothing connected it to Donna.

Then they went over the bar. How quiet it was for a Friday. How she'd had a headache and felt dizzy, how the lights went out. How her purse had disappeared.

How involved had the plan been? They came to the conclusion they may have drugged her.

The captors startle them with their return, tossing in a bag with a wrapped breakfast burrito inside and another water.

"One?" Harvey asks.

"You interfered, I didn't budget for double," Tall says.

Small comes over and passes them an orange and a banana, shrugging.

"Well, if we needed to know the more sympathetic one," Donna whispers when he's sufficiently walked away.

"I don't know what it does for us, but maybe it's something." Harvey meets her eyes and they scarf down a late breakfast.

* * *

Hours later, and they're left alone with Small. The gun sits on the sofa beside him as he watches a rerun of Seinfeld, laughing the loudest at Kramer scenes.

Anxiousness has climbed in Donna all day. The sun has been up for hours, and from the change in the faint light coming from the window above, she's sure it's heading into evening. A few more hours and it will have been 24 hours. Missing people didn't tend to survive long disappearances. And she's not even sure anyone _knows_ they're missing.

She's pacing the cell, staring from Small to the closed door.

"Hey," Harvey says.

"What?"

"You should sit." Harvey pats the spot beside him.

"Why?" she asks.

He evens his face, but it's obvious he's nervous. "We can talk."

"About?"

"Can you stop asking questions and just sit here for a minute?"

She sighs, pacing back over to him and sitting beside him on the bed.

Neither say anything and she bounces her bare heal in nervous energy.

He places a hand on her bare knee, stilling her and demanding reassurance.

She sighs, knowing if Harvey is the calmer one, it's probably a sign she's too wound up.

"Since we're stuck here...maybe we could talk about it?" He shrugs.

She knows what he's getting at, she just doesn't know why he's been pushing so much to discuss it.

 _Are you with Thomas because you want to be, or because you want it to affect Harvey?_

Lipschitz's words replay in her mind, along with her confession to Harvey that once again, their _whatever-the-hell-they-were_ had failed yet another relationship.

Why she'd let Louis and Harvey's therapist get in her head over an impromptu visit, she could never explain.

Except the words were so...true. That was the last time she'd go to find someone at a therapist's office, _ever_ again.

But maybe this was the sign. Ripping them out in a violent way and locking them up. Extreme. But maybe they needed that.

It's time. Fuck the past and live in this moment. _Because they might not have another one._

She packs down the emotion from the realization forming. "Fine. What do you want to know?"

"What happened?"

She sighs, looking away and then faces him straight on. "I realized my reasons for being with him were tied to you. And that wasn't fair so I told him."

"I imagine that didn't go well."

She tensed. "Hardly. He broke it off and we haven't spoken since."

Small looks over from the couch, eyeing they with curiosity before turning back to the TV.

"Why were they tied to me, Donna?" he asks gently.

"That's a little unfair, don't you think?" She sits up straighter, slipping further away on the bed.

"Is it?"

"I kissed you. You told me to promise—"

"I know what I said," he says harshly, and then softens his expression. "That was because—"

"Of her," she interrupts.

"Yes. Not because I didn't want you to."

She shakes her head. "You have a shitty way of showing it. How many months did we wait around?"

"If we're going for honesty? You told me it didn't mean anything."

She rolls her eyes. "I lied, Harvey. If you can't figure that out, it's because you don't fucking think of me that way."

"I _always_ think of you that way."

She pulls in a breath, the admission hitting her square in the chest.

"It's just twelve and a half years, Donna." His head turns, looking to her with apology on his face. "Risking losing you was never an option I was willing to take."

" _Was?"_ she clarifies.

"I'd been working up to talk to you. Then Thomas came along and by the time I knew, you were…"

She lets her lids fall, shaking her head.

Silence passes, and during Small gets up and walks out.

"We will get out of here," he states.

She nods, looking down.

He catches her chin with his fingers, turning it his way. Firmly but gently. "We will."

She nods more softly this time. Reminding herself of her trust in him.

"When we do, would you?" he asks.

She looks at him, lips parting, reminding herself to breathe.

"Because I think I would." He reaches for her hand, holding tentatively at a couple of her fingers.

 _Try together. Them._ "I wouldn't know where to start," she confesses.

"Admitting it's half the battle, isn't that what they say?"

"I'd say we have a bit more in the way than most."

"You think we can't, overcome it?" he challenges.

"I want to."

He nods. A single confirmation.

He's staring at her. Head tilting, inching forward just a hair. He glances to her lips. Her heart picks up speed, but this time it has nothing to do with their current situation, it's all him. He leans in further, closing the distance—

 _Slam!_ The door is thrown open, and they fly apart.

Tall is over to the couch to pick up the gun and then to them in a few strides. "You're not with fucking Kessler anymore?"

Her lips fall open, breath feeling trapped in her throat. She stares down at the gun, not sure what her answer should be. She glances to Harvey who shrugs and shakes his head, then to Small who looks nervous.

"Yes," she answers finally.

"When?" Tall demands.

"About two weeks ago."

"Fuck!" Tall shoves over a table, chest heaving as he stares away from them.

Her chin starts to spasm, an involuntary muscle twitch she can't control. She works harder to pull in breaths.

"Kessler's involved in this?" Harvey demands.

"Maybe it's fine," Small offers, both men ignoring Harvey.

"It's not fine. This entire plan is fucked. We were supposed to produce and instead of influencing him we're stuck with these two who are fucking around with each other." Tall points the gun at them, his hands wobbly and then he lays it on the back of the sofa, storming out.

Small picks it up. "Sit down! No more chatting."

Donna's heart is drumming so loudly she can barely focus on the room. If this is half as bad as Harvey's panic attacks… She bursts into tears and a wide eyed Harvey wraps her in his arms. _How was Thomas involved in this?_

* * *

For the rest of the evening, they sit in almost silence while the abductors are in obvious panic. She was some kind of leverage for Thomas and now she wasn't.

They toss them take out Mexican food around dinnertime and they eat in silence, Harvey keeping her sitting behind him the entire time.

Tall is in and out all evening. Small finally leaves them shortly after dinner, and Tall returns, his eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed, his movements erratic.

 _He's high._

The realization makes Donna's stomach turn.

Tall takes out a bottle of cheap whiskey from a paper bag, sliding a DVD into the TV and falling back on the couch, the gun laying beside him.

The video starts and it's obviously porn right from the credits. The entire scene before them is over the edge of too much. This guy is angry at them, with a gun, is on drugs, and downing a bottle of whiskey while watching porn in front of them. Rough porn from the inadvertent glance she takes.

She looks to Harvey. They're a hair from dying. This guy has nothing to lose, and they're in the way. And he's decreasing his control and rational thinking.

Harvey nods, tears behind his eyes because he knows too. They're together. They'd treated life like it was long when they'd not even had thirteen years to make it more. They harbor in each other. The comfort not being enough to settle them, but all they had to give.

The minutes pass by, maybe twenty or more. Tall has finished nearly half the bottle and the video is well underway.

It stops, the picture going blue.

"What the fuck?" Tall stumbles up and starts fiddling with it. Trying to get the disc out, turning it off and on. Pounding a fist on the top. "Fuck!"

Hands are threading through his hair, and he takes another swig of the booze. He stills suddenly, eyes landing on them. He sits on the arm of the sofa, his arousal unavoidable with obscurity in his eyes.

Terror grows in Donna.

"Entertain me," he demands plainly.

"What?" Harvey asks.

Donna feels ill.

"Entertain me. You're the reason I'm stuck here with a hard cock and now I have no viewing material. Create it."

Donna is shaking, terrified, wide eyes. Harvey looks from her to Tall. His name suddenly doesn't sound vile enough.

Harvey steps forward, palm between them. "Look, you don't have to—"

Tall reaches behind and picks up the gun from the sofa, pointing it their way. "I fucking said entertain me. Do either of you need more incentive or is this enough?"

Harvey's fingers are tightened in fists, his shoulders stiffened like rods. She sees his body rise and fall in breaths. He's fuming, not in control.

She weighs their options, mentally racing her thoughts. They don't have one.

She steps up to him, fingers coaxing his shoulders to turn, and then his chin. She resolves herself, pulling in a long breath and looking up, eyes on his face. Her hand slides down his arm, crosses his abdomen, and palms him over his boxers.

He hisses and starts to pull away, but she holds his waist with the opposite hand. She grabs him, feeling him begin to grow. He closes his eyes, stone still before he opens them a bit, head falling back slightly.

"Donna," he warns.

She swallows, stepping closer but keeping connected. She leans in, keeping her voice low. "Harvey. We don't have a choice. Kiss me."

His chest rises and falls. Then, his hands come up to cradle each side of her face, leaning in to brush his lips against hers. Tentative; reassuringly at first. Soon he begins to open to her, taking in her mouth and fear under control of his tongue parting her lips. His mouth on hers brings her a new level of safe in a situation that isn't. Pain and panic are given and taken in desperate attempt making her heady. She's almost forgotten as they break apart, his hands coming to rest high on her sides.

They're panting, hearts racing from more than just the kiss. This isn't settled, even if the current situation makes them beg that it was.

The gunman is still as he's riveted on their display. The cylinder of the gun is still a dark hole of danger facing them.

Harvey's not fully hard, despite the kiss and her hand working on the problem. The gun can't be helping the situation and the madman beside them isn't letting it go. Harvey needs more. She steels herself, self preservation chanting her along. She drops tentatively to her knees, eyes wide and looking up to him.

Her hands move to rest against his waistband. He's looking down at her, chest rising and falling with his lips parted. He does a light shake of his head. She ignores him, pulling down his waistband just far enough to expose his dick, still flaccid but beginning to grow. Her fingers lift him, circling the firming skin while she watches his head fall back, his eyes briefly closing. She squeezes, strokes him, then leans in to take the head in her mouth. She sucks gently, using her tongue to swirl saliva around as she works further down his shaft. He twitches in her mouth as he hardens, once, twice, three times.

His pupils have grown, his cheeks flushed. She tries to forget the gun, the man outside, the bars, and the world. Focused instead on the velvet skin of his length, growing in response to her mouth. Trusting each other in a way they haven't in years. Lives and pleasure in each other's control. She's bobbing her mouth over him, tasting him. Lips whispering they want him, mouth accepting him, tongue gliding along the ridge to draw out his pleasure. Suction begging him to lose himself with her. Erase the world, find each other. Make everything but this go away.

His fingers thread in her hair, stopping her, tightening just enough to warn her he was close. She wants to finish—give it all to him because maybe this was her last chance without eyes and ears to tell him she wanted all of him. Now and maybe always before.

Instead, he reaches down under her arms and lifts her up. Stopping here probably wouldn't be all the madman asked, and Harvey is smart enough not to take chances the man will find other means of entertainment if it finished here.

Tall is stroking with his opposite hand now.

Them being the cause grips her chest. Their reality is they didn't have time to think. Harvey glances to him, a hatred burning in the tightness of his brow.

Tall does a circle with the gun, signalling them to continue.

Harvey leans in, his shoulders falling. "This is you and me, all right? Forget about the rest. This is just us."

Donna nods, letting that reality settle. The only person she wants touching her is him. She backs toward the bed letting her knees hit the mattress. Harvey follows. She hardens herself to the rest and lifts up her cami, just enough to expose her breasts.

Harvey's chin drops, eyes falling on her bared skin. He leans into her, kissing her lips, then moving to the corner of her mouth to her chin and just below her ear. Her skin prickles with his hot mouth exploring her neck, feeling the briefest tingles between her legs. She's both thankful for the feeling and hates herself for it. It means she's reacting to him and with what's about to happen she'll need the help.

Yet it also means their captor is winning.

Harvey moves down her chest, stilling every so often as if he's stalling between each step forward, giving her a chance to change course. They're forcing themselves through what they'd want in a completely different setting, but having to ignore the violation to make it through instead.

His hand rests on her ass and he meets her eyes. She nods. Because what else can she do but make this easier on them both. He pulls her against him, feeling his erection press her skin. It jolts to her core and warmth pools between her legs. His mouth moves to her breasts and he sucks in a nipple. She gasps as he rolls it in the heat of his mouth, pulling her head to her. His fingers brush around her thigh, landing just above the band of her panties on her stomach. He straightens, watching her face as is if in confirmation as it slides under her band, slipping lower and finding her clit. Her knees nearly buckle on contact and she has to grab his shoulders to steady.

Her reactions feel all jumbled and not her own. Nothing is reacting in normal time from doing this against their will with the combination of wanting him for so long being fulfilled. This is all natural reaction but she feels like it's someone else in the room doing this. Another fate she's feeling but closing off to all at once. His fingers burn in a way that's too soon but good enough she wants to beg because she's already close.

The clanging of the gun hitting the metal of the bars jolts them.

"Bend her over and fuck her already."

The weight of the situation hits her squarely, cold flying through her like her skin is the metal of the gun. Harvey's going to have to bend her over and fuck her. Not in a room alone, on a bed. In front of this stranger while he gets off to it. Maybe before he kills them. She tears up, closing her eyes and willing the sobs to pull back.

He withdraws his hand and pulls her close. "I'm sorry."

"Don't," she warns.

"Just you and me, okay?"

She nods. Then he turns her, and she's thankful he's not making her offer it. He pulls her ass to him and she bends at the contact, his cock pressing against her ass. Her palms hit the mattress to steady herself.

He pulls her panties to the side and she braces for him. Instead of his cock she feels his fingers again, a circle on her clit and then positioning at her entrance. One enters, then two. And she's thankful for the intrusion that might make this less shocking. She tries to focus on the feeling of him moving in and out. Ignoring the world except for them. He's pressing down on each thrust, hitting her front wall and her body is happy to respond even if her brain isn't.

He withdraws them, and then she feels the emptiness before the head of his cock parts her outer lips. He rubs her slit, bumping her clit on each motion and then stops, working in and pulling back until it sinks inside. He inches his way, letting her adjust to his size. She's full from him, the burn from not being ready making her tense. And then he pulls back and thrusts forward again, catching her breath.

He works a rhythm, feeling his skin hit her buttocks and thighs. His height makes it impossible to part her legs which isn't helping with how invading he feels.

Her body soon adjusts to him and she slips from discomfort to pleasure, her pants growing louder, with moans and whines falling out with the breaths.

The angle is cruel, him being taller and hitting her front wall in an agonizing way. She can't decide if coming with him or not is what she wants. Her body doesn't care. It responds.

He brushes a hand up and down her spine, a tiny comfort while she's taken closer to the edge.

It's like a dream mashed against a nightmare she can fully feel, smell, touch, react to. She's disengaged like this is a made up moment, but she can't escape the virtual trap. The familiar tightening forms in her belly and she's gripped, wave after wave pulsing around his cock as he finishes out in a chase of his own thrusts. He tenses as he spills in her.

And she begs to whatever is left keeping them alive it can be over. He helps her up, his touch tentative. She rushes to the restroom to clean up as best as she can with only a sink. Splashes water on her face and between her legs. Using a towel to scrub all over her skin. It's futile but it gives her a moment out of the vision of their puppeting rapist. It makes her feel like a bit of it is erased.

She'd responded. _Because it was Harvey? Because it was what bodies did?_ She feels sick, like a bad reaction to a poisonous feeling.

Their captor is at the kitchen sink, cleaning off his spent cock and clothes. It does an extra turn on her stomach and she's beyond caring. She walks past Harvey and slips under the blankets, facing the wall while the tears fall. Also involuntary, also without her permission.

Harvey disappears into the bathroom. She can feel his presence shifted without sight or sound. Like they'd been unnaturally linked at another level. He returns shortly and she feels the bed sink beside her.

"Is it okay...if I'm here?" he asks.

"Yes."

He climbs in beside her, adjusting her hair out of the way and smoothing the strands. He's making effort not to touch her even in the tiny space, and despite feeling like it's for the best, it makes her insides wrench. A hand falls on her upper arm.

"He left. Are you all right?"

"No," she answers honestly.

"I'm… I'm sorry."

She turns over to face him. Because she _needs_ him to know. "You didn't, Harvey. You didn't."

"But you're hurting? Can I..."

She sobs, not able to hold back the enveloping ache that's taken her over. She cries while he smooths out her hair, brushes her cheeks, traces paths down her arm.

"Thirteen years of hiding. We're never getting our moment back," she says.

"We can make new ones."

She can't look in his eyes, brushing his touch away and wishing she could brush the unsettled layer of trauma that had taken over her skin.

She shrugs, making light of the thought that felt like a lead ball she was dragging. "I'd dreamed of it. Us. Over and over. Now the image is that."

His brow is drawn tightly together, anguish pulling in at all the corners of his face. "I know. If you want me to—"

"I want you to hold me. Because I don't want him taking that too."

He nods and offers her to shift against him, wrapping her up. Giving her a place of safety to let everything out in, even though it's just an illusion and nothing's safe at all.

* * *

 _A/N's: Never have I ever been more nervous about posting and writing something. This grew out of a discussion in a chat group that was sort of a challenge(and harassment) to include sex at gunpoint. Initially, I thought it was going to be much tamer and then this grew out of it. Thanks to my friends for the encouragement and more than kind words(and some not so kind haha) that helped me to write it._

 _I'm hoping to post the conclusion before 8B starts. As always, would love to hear your thoughts. Love, Blue_


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